


Dirty Business

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-07-31
Updated: 1998-07-31
Packaged: 2018-11-21 00:30:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11346279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Krycek breaks into Mulder's apartment to retrieve a file and finds more than he bargained for.





	Dirty Business

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Dirty Business by Cathy Lee

This is my entry into Nicci's tight spaces challenge.  
Standard Disclaimer: You know!  
NC-17, slash.  
Category: VR

* * *

"Dirty Business"  
(Named after the New Riders of the Purple Sage song, but not quite the same type of dirty business.)  
by cathy lee ()

Again, I find myself clandestinely kneeling in front of the apartment door of my former partner, Fox Mulder, picking at a lock I've come to know too well over the past six months. My cigarette-smoking boss has ordered me to break in and retrieve some transcripts from an interview of a man with a startlingly clear memory. The man remembers being abducted by a UFO with such vivid detail, that my boss and his associates fear his account won't be easily dismissed as the ravings of another attention-hungry kook. The editor of the MUFON newsletter conducted the interview last week and forwarded a copy to Mulder for him to write an expert commentary on the man's experiences. Over the last few days the abductee, and all records of his experiences have been eliminated. Its now my job to destroy these last copies that Mulder is holding somewhere in his apartment. 

I continue to pick at the lock. Its the simplest lock in the world to crack, but I wish my boss would just give me a key. The cylinders are staring to wear from the repeated insertion of pins, and there's always the outside chance I might be spotted by the neighbors. I start at the loud click indicating the lock had turned over. This makes me smile. Even though this lock presents absolutely no challenge, its still satisfying to hear that noise.

Inside Mulder's apartment I begin searching as carefully as I can so that I leave everything as close as possible to the way I find it. In order to draw as little attention as possible to the importance of the files, my boss wants Mulder to think he simply misplaced them. Besides, if he suspects his apartment's been searched, there's the chance he'll get a better lock, maybe dust for fingerprints, or take some other security measure that will only make my job more difficult. A year ago my bosses would have taken the trouble to plant a innocuous substitute, a fabricated interview totally lacking the incendiary revelations of the original. But this game's gone on too long with Mulder. They know what he's about and he knows what they're about. There is no longer any need to bother with such a ruse. 

I begin my search by booting up his computer and deleting all copies of the file. Then I launch the operating system's own reformatting program to eradicate any remaining traces of the file from the hard drive. That's the easy part. But I know from working with the man that Mulder always immediately makes a paper copy of important files. Somewhere in this apartment he's stashed a copy of that interview. In the desk drawers there's nothing but assorted junk, old bills and checks, packs of blank computer paper. Then I quickly rifle through a large stack of files sitting on the floor in front of the bookcase. There's nothing here but copies of old files Mulder wrote for the FBI over a year earlier. I smile, a few are from cases he and I worked on together. There's my name, "Alex Krycek," printed beside his on the coversheets of several of the reports. 

After quickly going through the book cases, I move my search to the bedroom. In the bottom of Mulder's closet is a huge box of magazines, stroke books to be exact. I start to go through them in search of the file, but I soon realize what an inefficient use of my time this is. Most of them are several years old and I find it unlikely that Mulder would have placed a more recent file among them, especially if he had no reason to believe there was any advantage in hiding the file. I note to myself to thoroughly go through the box as a last resort, if I'm unable to find the transcript anywhere else. 

I pull open Mulder's dresser drawers. Mulder keeps them a lot neater than I would have ever expected considering the disorder in which he conducted business at the office. Tee-shirts, shorts, and jeans are all sorted and folded. His socks are matched and rolled evenly together. As I have with all the drawers, I run my hand underneath the layer of folded clothing, in this case boxer shorts, hoping to feel the edge of a file folder or loose paper that may be concealed below. The fabric feels silky and pleasurable against the skin on the back of my hand. Its totally unlike the feel of woven cotton from which boxers are normally sewn. In the corner of the drawer I feel the boxed-off edge of heavy cardstock, a file folder, hopefully the one I'm looking for. In my excitement, I jerk it out quickly, inadvertently overturning the neat contents of the drawer. Yep, inside is the transcript all right. I toss the folder on the bed and turn to straighten the drawer. Surprisingly, the action of removing the file has revealed a hidden layer of the teeniest, sexiest, most expensive looking women's panties I've ever seen. Before me are laces, satins and silks in a variety of pastels and deeper shades, skimpy gold and silver spandex. There has to be at least twenty pairs! 

Who in the hell is the woman who's left all of her sexiest underwear over at her lover's place? I've been watching Mulder for months and have never once seen any woman, other than Scully, enter the apartment. Then it occurs to me, of course, this is Mulder's trophy collection. I snicker to myself with a new found respect for the quiet yet handsome nerd who was my partner for a little over two months. As I run my hands through the soft collection of silk, lace and spandex, a slight twinge of jealousy needles my mind. Except for that superfreak Brenda, my few girlfriends, Leigh, Katy, Portia and Maria, only ever wore the most practical cotton bikinis. Yet this quiet weirdo has amassed a collection of panties to rival the Victoria Secret catalogue. I pick up a teeny white lace thong with delicate satin bows and miniature pearls sewn all over the front. Normal women hardly ever wear this stuff. 

The underwear feels good prickling against my razor stubble. I imagine a woman's lovely pubis enclosed in the tight silky lace. I think of my face pressed there, my hands running up smooth, hot thighs. Suddenly, a shocking thought occurs to me, and I drop the panties back into the drawer. I bolt back to the closet and pull open the cardboard box on the floor. I began pulling magazines out, "Playboy," "Penthouse," "Celebrity Skin." About a third of the way down, the box is filled with the magazines I originally saw, but which hadn't immediately registered in my mind. Two huge stacks of "Blue Boy," "Hung Hunks" and "Male Call." Jesus Christ, talk about closeted. I leaned against the closet door while glancing at the beefy men on the covers, and grin. Mulder probably *wore* that underwear or beat off with it. When the image of Fox Mulder, clad in nothing but white lace panties, suddenly and perspicuously entered my mind, I felt my cock jump in response. Somehow the perversity of the whole situation turns me on sexually. This is ridiculous, I need to get laid, I tell myself. Not that I'd ever be sexually aroused by my former partner, it's just that the thought of Mulder wearing those panties, with a raging hard-on underneath... . It's this unexpectedly clear view into another person's most hidden sexual desires that gets me going. Fox Mulder stroking himself beneath the tight lace nothings, thinking about another man fucking him in the ass... It makes me laugh out loud. I'd give a month of Sundays to be able to see it.

Christ, now I'm hard ...hard as a rock. An absurd idea suddenly pops into my mind. I decide to quickly, *very* quickly, strip off all my own clothing and pull those delicate lace nothings over my raging hard-on in order to glimpse at myself in the mirror... just to get an idea what Mulder would look like wearing them. I find myself standing in the middle of the bedroom yanking off my clothing as fast as my hands will allow. I hurl my shoes across the room and against the wall. I grin wickedly at my monster as it bounces free from my boxers and jeans.

Finally naked, I walk over to the dresser and reverently picked up the white lace panties. They seem so pure and delicate, yet sexy as hell, like what a bride might wear on her wedding night. I laugh aloud at the thought of their imminent defilement. I will rub my crotch against them and allow my seeping cock to moisten through the fabric. Slowly I pull them over my legs. They were obviously made for a very small women, they're going to be tight, but I suppose that's the way Mulder likes it

..tight. The sensation of them on is way better

than I expected. I put off looking in the mirror, and instead relish the feel of the delicate fabric cutting into the tops of my thighs. They aren't nearly as elastic as I imagined they'd be. Instead they are pleasantly uncomfortable. The top half of my rigid cock lewdly pokes out the tiny waistband. There isn't nearly enough fabric to cover my balls and the left one torturously squeezes out the side. The pearl-covered lace thong wedges deeply between my asscheeks. I pull it back and allowed my finger to run along the satiny inside of the short little strap. Then I jerk the waistband upwards, allowing the lace to chaff over my asshole. This action causes the lace inside of the leg to cut even more painfully between my testicles. I moan aloud with pleasure and find myself swaying back and forth. Christ, Mulder, I think, you really are one fucking little pervert.

I palm the bottom half of my cock through the lacy fabric and simultaneously yank the thong back and forth against my anus. I moan again, it's too good, the thought of Mulder inside these panties. I envision Mulder's own cock bursting out of them, Mulder cumming all over his stomach, masturbating while thinking of another man... another man taking him violently in the ass.

When I finally look up at my image in the mirror, it takes my breath away. I'd planned on standing so that the reflection of my head was cut off, in order to imagine Mulder's excited body clad in the panties. But my own image, and the reflection of my own desire-filled face, is too much to turn away from. I'm gorgeous, cheeks flushed, lips pursed. The smallness of the underwear makes my cock look enormous, as if the force of my desire alone could rend the teeny seams apart. I pull the dainty panty from side to side, causing one, then the other of my huge testicles to pop out. I turn slightly to the left to observe my sculpted asscheeks framed by the delicate gossamer edges of the lace. Is this what Mulder does while wearing these, imagining another man ripping them away, forcing him to bend over and take a huge piece of flesh up his ass? 

I wonder if Mulder fingers himself while he masturbates this way. I bring my own hand up to my mouth and lewdly insert it. In the mirror I watch myself hungrily licking it, wetting it, before bringing it down between my beautiful asscheeeks. I pull the lace aside and gradually work my finger deeply inside myself, playfully thrusting in and out. 

This causes my cock to twitch aggressively, and it pushes the top of the panty further down. I readjust the it, and with the same hand grasp my shaft in my fist. I began a slow steady stroking motion over the length of it. Mulder probably does this every night while standing in front of this mirror, imagining himself being taken up the ass. Hell, Mulder probably wears these panties to work under his suits. He probably deliberately shifts around in his desk chair to cause the panties to painfully chaff and pull against him. When he gets too aroused he probably sneaks away to the men's room jerks himself off, occasionally glancing at himself in the mirror and watching his semen shooting across his stomach, seeing it running down, defiling the delicate laces and satins.

I stroke myself with long efficient movements. My fist moves tightly up and down the shaft. I wet my palm on the upstroke with the abundant pre-ejaculate, and smear it over my flesh on the downstroke. Every few seconds my right hand, working on my asshole, withdraws and jerks the lace tightly and painfully through the cleft between my balls and against my anus. I need to cum now, there's no longer any question about what I'm doing. And given the circumstances and where I am, I need to cum as quickly as possible and get the hell out. Whatever it takes to get off, I tell myself, is okay as long as it works fast. But right now the only thing that seems to work is the mental image of Fox Mulder getting fucked while dressed in women's panties. 

I see Mulder, with a look of ecstatic agony on his face as a man's large hands roughly pull the delicate lace band to the side while forcing him to bend over. There are Mulder's beautiful butt cheeks being cruelly pulled open by those same man's hands. Then they position an immense cock at the opening, and bear downwards. I find myself jerkily thrusting my hips in time to the imagined strokes inside my former partner's body. There's no longer any question in my mind about what's happening. I'm imagining *myself* fucking Mulder. I loose myself in thoughts of the tight heat, and the moans of pain and pleasure I'll elicit with every brutal thrust. 

I looked at myself in the mirror again. My thick red pole stands straight out, one hand beating it while the other hand furiously frigs my ass. My butt cheeks flex with every stroke. The lace side of the panty rolls between my wrist and hip and I imagine it is Mulder's wrist holding me steady. Suddenly I imagine the roles are reversed. I'm the one getting fucked. Mulder's cock is mercilessly driving into my narrow opening. Mulder's cum is erupting deeply into my body. It's too much... but it's enough. My next stroke downwards brings a creamy euphoric heat emanating from my crotch to my toes and my scalp. I feel like I'm loosing my balance. Again, I imagined Mulder's cock, twitching and sputtering cum into me, and I feel the cock in my fist similarly twitch. Cum flies out, across the room, a stream of it landing inside Mulder's now disordered underwear drawer. I groan so loudly, it sounds like I've been mortally injured while my ass muscles spasms around my finger. The last spurts dribble down the front of my cock and pool against the white lacy band of the panties. 

In the mirror I watch myself smear the remaining cum across my stomach and into the lace. I feel dirty, nasty... never before in my life have I engaged in such a kinky fantasy. I'll take these white panties as a souvenir. I'll wear them out of Mulder's apartment underneath my jeans. This makes me smile. Maybe I'll leave my own boxers as a present in return.

As I am bending to retrieve my clothing from the floor I am startled by a loud clicking noise followed by the creak of Mulder's front door opening. Holy shit! Mulder's home. I have just enough time to kick my clothing under the bed and jump into the open closet behind the winter coats and box of pornography. As soon as I am settled in the back of the closet I realize what a stupid move I've just made. How in the hell am I supposed to get out of there now?

>From the opened closet door I have a more or less clear view across the hall and into Mulder's living room. Luckily he doesn't come into his bedroom but instead hangs his suit jacket over the ridiculous pool ball coat rack. I watch as he goes into the kitchen to retrieve himself a beer. A second later he's back, moving around the living room. He stops in front of his desk for a few seconds with a confused look on his face. Oh shit, the computer is still booted up. Mulder turns it off and walks back over to the couch. He retrieves a video case from a brown paper bag he brought into the apartment with him, and he plops it into the VCR. Within a few seconds I hear familiar cheesy fuckfilm music starting. I observe the play of light reflecting off Fox Mulder's face as the action on the screen heats up. Mulder gravely swallows his beer and intensely stares at the television. 

So this is how kinky FBI agents unwind. It must have been a pretty rough day. Mulder sure as hell hadn't wasted any time, he's only been in the apartment ten minutes. By now he's kicked off his shoes and has stretched out on the couch. He begins to unbutton the top of his shirt. The sex on the screen is well under way now, and I can hear the porn stars moaning together. And yep, it's two men. 

Despite my totally screwed predicament I smile to myself. I'm hiding inside the closet of a man who would probably love to strangle me with his bare hands. All I have on is a pair of cum-soaked women's underpants. My weapon and the file I was sent to steal, not to mention the rest of my clothing, are way out of my reach. Within my clear view that same man is taking his *very nice* cock out of his pants in order to beat off to a gay fuck film on the VCR. Nice work Alex. I quietly leaned back against the inside of the closet wall and *pray* Mulder will fall asleep after he cums. In the meantime I suppose there's nothing else to do but lean back and enjoy the show.

the end


End file.
